“Come on, Boo,” I said. “It’s okay.”
He looked up at me and then canvassed all sides of the woods and then gave me a look that indicated we were clear for takeoff. We made it back to my car and I opened the door. Lord Berkeley hopped in and I shut him inside and then circled around to the trunk and popped it open. I tucked the bag of pinecones I’d collected to the side and then pushed the lid down.
I grabbed the door handle and heard someone approach from behind. I turned just in time to see a needle plunge toward my neck. I swerved and felt it brush the side of my face when it forced its way by me, but it didn’t connect. The man who held it was dressed in a black hooded sweatshirt which he had up over his head. The tassels were tied in a bow under his chin. A blue ball cap peeked out under the hood, and his eyes were shielded by glasses that made him look like an oversized wasp. It didn’t matter how many precautions he took to conceal his identity; I knew who he was.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Lord Berkeley inside the car trying to scratch his way through the window. I planted both feet into the soil beneath me, regained my footing and aimed my left foot straight for an area a man resists injury the most. Upon impact the needle shot out of his gloved hand into the air and twirled around in circles before it stuck to a branch on the tree; fluid still remained inside of it. I ran to my car, whipped the door open and went for my gun. He sprinted after me, but once he saw what I held in my hand, he turned and made a mad dash to the nearest thicket of trees. I fired off a shot, and his squeal echoed around me. His hand gripped his shoulder—he’d been hit. It wasn’t where I intended to get him, but at least it connected, and now the hunter had become the hunted. I was the predator and he was my prey.
I fired off another shot but by now he’d hidden himself well within the trees. I ran toward the path Sinnerman hobbled across before me and then stopped when I heard two more shots go off that didn’t seem to be aimed in my direction. Two other men stepped forward out of the trees. The heavy set one nodded at the thin one, and the thin one disappeared. The other guy walked toward me. I crouched down behind a tree and aimed.
“I’d stop right there if you don’t want a bullet between your eyes,” I said.
“Sloane, are you alright?”
“Who are you?” I said. “And how do you know my name?”
He accelerated forward.
“I said stop! I’m in no mood to screw around, so don’t test me.”
He halted but was close enough now that I was able to get a good look at him. His face was familiar, and I’d seen him months before on another case I worked on—he was the man in black.
“Why are you here?” I said.
“Giovanni sent us.”
“Are you two the ones he’s had watching out for me this whole time?”
He nodded.
“If you’re here to help, can you put the gun down?” I said.
He shook his head and said, “It’s for your protection.”
I nodded at my 9mm and said, “I can take care of myself.”
He shrugged but didn’t lower his gun. It wasn’t aimed at me either; it just rested by his side.
“Have you been here the whole time?” I said.
He nodded.
“How’s that possible? I never knew you were there.”
“Boss said not to get too close. You weren’t ever supposed to see us.”
“I’ve seen you before, six months ago,” I said.
He nodded.
“Yeah, I remember.”
“And I remember trying to get you to tell me your name, but you wouldn’t,” I said.
“It was better not to at the time,” he said. “Lucio.”
“What?” I said.
“That’s my name. Sorry.”
“For what?” I said.
“How long it took us to get to you.”
“Where were you anyway?”
He walked closer to me, and I noticed his cheeks were flushed with color. I couldn’t tell whether it was from the heat or if he was embarrassed about something.
“I drank ah, a lot of water when we got here. We was trying to keep up with you, and I wasn’t doing so good so I drank a few waters and then went over to the bushes to—”
“That’s okay,” I said. “I get it, no need to explain any further.”
He shook his head.
“Not to you maybe, but we still have to tell the boss, and he ain’t gonna be happy.”
“What about the other guy?” I said. “Where was he?”
“He was supposed to keep a look out, but he got distracted by a deer. I know, sounds stupid, huh? But we don’t see stuff like that where we’re from.”
“To be honest, I didn’t know anyone was still assigned to me,” I said. “Not with that guy in custody and everything.”
The wrong guy.
“Boss had some doubt. Said you didn’t think it was him and to stay with you until he said otherwise.”
“So what else do you guys do when you’re not coming to my rescue?” I said.
A smile formed on Lucio’s lips and he winked at me.
“Nice try, lady.” He wagged his finger at me. “For a smart girl, I can’t believe you haven’t figured it out yet. You expect me to believe you don’t know?”
A figure appeared from the side of a huge boulder. We raised our guns in synchronized motion.
Lucio shouted, “Sal, that you?”
“It’s me,” the guy said.
Lucio turned to me. “It’s okay, he’s one of us.” He gave Sal a stern look and said,
“Well?”
Sal shrugged but wouldn’t look him in the eye.
“Can’t find him. I looked everywhere. No blood, nothin’. It’s like the guy was never here.”
“Boss won’t be happy ‘bout this,” he said.
“I’ll talk to him,” I said.
Sal and Lucio looked at each other and laughed and Lucio said, “Lady, you got a lot to learn.”
I looked back but didn’t say a word. So did they.
CHAPTER 36
Sam Reids hunched over the stove in his kitchen and nursed his wound. The bullet from Sloane’s gun nicked him in the shoulder and it stung like he’d doused it in alcohol and held it there. Going to the hospital was out of the question, and he knew what had to be done—he’d have to extract the bullet himself.
He took a long hard swig of whiskey and another, and then poured some of it on the afflicted area. It was now or never. With his sterilized knife in hand, Sam stabbed at the gaping hole. The impact of the knife on his exposed flesh was more than he could stand, and he squealed like a pig headed for the slaughter. He jerked from one side to the other and wished he could knock himself unconscious rather than endure the pain a second more.
Sam tried to set aside the constant throb that pounded like the beat of a heart and inched the knife deeper until he reached the place where the bullet had lodged. He dug around until he had a firm grip and then harvested it from its position inside his body. Once it dislodged, he grabbed it with his free hand and heaved it across the room. It smacked hard against the wall and fell in silence to the carpet below. Sam dipped the blade of his knife into the open flame on his gas stove and then, when it was hot enough, he pressed it against his flesh. The smell permeated the room and it looked like his flesh had melted, but after a moment, the wound seared shut and he tossed the knife into the sink.
Sam didn’t want to admit his plan turned out to be such a grandiose failure or that Sloane was more prepared than he anticipated. She was alone, vulnerable, and in the perfect position for him to strike, and yet he failed. He thought it would be easier to catch her—he was sure she would struggle, but to fight back like she did without hesitation and through pure instinct was a shock to him. Sloane was strong and resilient, and to catch her would require serious thought.